


Sounding Off

by teacuphuman



Series: A Month of Kink! [14]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Sounding, Unethical Medicine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:47:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacuphuman/pseuds/teacuphuman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 14 of the Month of Kink: Sounding</p><p>Eames' regular doctor is away, but his locum has the cure for what ails him.</p><p>(I deeply love the cheesiness of this summary)</p><p>“I need you to say it, Mr. Eames.” The hand on his knee squeezes. </p><p>“Please, help me.”</p><p>Something flashes in the doctor’s eyes and he smiles, dimples popping out. “Excellent, Mr. Eames. Lie back, please.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sounding Off

**Author's Note:**

> Holy dub-con, Batman!
> 
> Still sick, still playing catch up. Please bear with me.

Eames winces when the paper underneath him sticks to his exposed bits. The gown is paper, too, and not nearly generous enough to protect his virtue. He’s embarrassed and uncomfortable, a state that isn’t improved when the doctor knocks on the door and enters.

“You’re not Dr. Fibert.” Eames blurts.

The man, who is most definitely not Eames’ sixty-five year old family physician, smiles brightly. “I see you’re observational skills are excellent, Mr. Eames. I am not, in fact, Dr. Fibert. He was called away for a family emergency. I’m Dr.-”

“I’ll reschedule.” Eames scrambles off the table, trying to ignore the sound of the paper ripping beneath him.

“Mr. Eames, I assure you, I am more than capable of seeing to your issue.” The dark haired man holds his palms up, moving to block the chair where Eames’ clothes are piled.

“I’m not questioning your abilities, I’m not. It’s just,” he trails off, flushing.

“It’s just that your problem is of a personal nature?”

“Er, yes.” Eames knows he’s being ridiculous. The man is a doctor, no doubt he’s seen and heard worse than Eames has to offer, but he just can’t bring himself to confess to a man who looks like he just stepped out the pages of a GQ magazine.

“Mr. Eames, I understand your hesitancy. It can be hard to ask for help, especially of someone unknown. I’m guessing, however, that you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t serious. Now, Dr. Fibert has engaged me as a locum for the foreseeable future, and I worry that your condition could become severe while you wait for his return.”

This gives Eames pause. It has been getting worse. Much worse, and it’s frightening him. He’s stopped leaving the house because he’s afraid of what his body might do to betray him. He nods curtly and shimmies back onto the table. The doctor gives him an understanding smile, sits on the wheeled stool, and opens his laptop.

“Thank you, now, as I was saying, I’m Dr. Gold. Feel free to call me Arthur. What can I do for you today?”

Eames takes a deep breath, staring at his hands in his lap. “I’ve been having issues. With my, um, my prick. My penis, I mean.” He can feel his face heating up, but Dr. Gold just nods, his face open.

“What sort of issues?”

“I can’t piss,” he blurts. “I mean, I feel like I have to, all the time, but when I try, there’s nothing. Just pain.”

Dr. Gold types something into his file, nodding again. “Okay, how long has this been happening?”

“About three months.” Eames confesses.

“Any other symptoms?”

Eames chews his lip. He’s come this far, he may as well go all the way and totally embarrass himself in front of the handsome doctor.

“I pissed myself. Two days ago.”

“I’m guessing that’s what finally made you come in.” Dr. Gold’s tone is direct, thankfully without an ounce of pity.

“Yeah, can’t really ignore it anymore, can I?”

“Not really, no. Any erectile dysfunction during this time?” Dr. Gold goes back to typing.

“Ah, well, not being able to piss has kind of been preoccupying me, so I haven’t been too focused on that.”

The doctor hums. “What about in the mornings? Have you had regular nocturnal penile tumescence?”

Eames thinks back. He can’t actually remember the last time he noticed his erection. He hasn’t had sex in nearly six months, and his normal routine of jacking in the shower has lately been replaced with the frustration and shame he feels at not being able to void his bladder.

“I don’t think so. That’s bad, isn’t it? Oh, God, it is cancer? Do I have penis cancer?” He can feel himself panicking and his chest feels tight.

Dr. Gold wheels over to him, placing a hand on Eames’ knee. The gown doesn’t go down that far and the man’s hand is hot. Eames stares at it, focusing on the slender fingers and the sleek lines of the veins under his skin.

“Mr. Eames, let me assure you that it is my professional medical opinion that you do not have cancer.”

Eames lets out a long breath, mesmerized by the care and worry in the doctor’s eyes.

“I’m pretty sure I know what the problem is, and I can help you. Would you like me to do that?”

“Yes,” Eames whispers, relieved. He’s so desperate to be free of this problem, he feels like he’d say yes to anything.

“I need you to say it, Mr. Eames.” The hand on his knee squeezes.

“Please, help me.”

Something flashes in the doctor’s eyes and he smiles, dimples popping out. “Excellent, Mr. Eames. Lie back, please.”

“What are you going to do?” Eames asks, feeling the paper on the table tear completely as he swivels to bring his legs up.

“I’ll explain as I go. Just relax, and let me help you.”

Eames is tense, listening to the doctor’s movements while he preps what he needs. He’s humming softly, but Eames can’t make out the tune.

“Now, Mr. Eames, I believe your issue stems from a blockage in your urethra. This is what’s causing your inability to void. Additionally, I suspect your prostate is inflamed, which may be putting pressure on the urethra, and exacerbating the blockage. With me so far?” He smiles down at Eames.

“Ah, I think so.” Eames can’t help but wince at the sound of latex gloves being snapped on.

“Good. Now, normally we would massage the prostate to decrease the inflammation, but because of the blockage, I think we have better options.” He picks up a long, silver rod, showing it to Eames. One end of it is flat and any warm flutter Eames felt at the suggestion of a prostate massage is doused when he thinks about where that rod might be going.

“Um, if that goes where I think it goes, I think I’ve changed my mind.” He moves to sit up, but Dr. Gold’s hand is on his shoulder, slamming him back to the table.

“Mr. Eames, you asked for my help. Your condition will only get worse if left untreated, and it would be a shame for that to happen to a man such as yourself. You’re young, virile, and from what your chart says, quite sexually active. I would be amiss in my duties if I were to allow you to walk out that door. Now, I can, and will, restrain you if I need to, but this procedure is happening. Do you need me to restrain you?”

Eames is in shock, that’s the only explanation for the thrill that goes through him at the doctor’s hard tone. The man just threatened to strap him down and violate him, that shouldn’t be sending tendrils of heat to places that have been neglected and cold for months.

“Is it going to hurt?” He croaks.

The doctor brushes Eames’ hair back from his brown, the glove on his hand sliding through the sweat there. “Not if you hold still and relax. What is it they say? Lie back and think of England?”

The doctor smiles down at him, still petting his hair. Eames is fairly certain that if he could, he would have an erection by now. And how fucked up is that? he thinks. He gives the rod a long, hard look.

“Okay.”

The smile on the doctor’s face is beautiful. His whole face is lit up, and there’s warmth in his eyes.

“I need to hear you say it.” His other hand touches Eames’ thigh lightly.

Eames swallows nervously. “Restrain me, please.”

“Very good, Mr. Eames.” The hands disappear and Dr. Gold takes off the gloves. He stops to lock the door, resuming his humming. He pulls a set of padded cuffs out of a box on the counter.

“Legs too, do you think? Or can I trust you not to squirm?”

Eames eyes the rods on the instrument tray, his breath speeding up. “Legs too.”

“What was that?” The doctor says sharply.

“Restrain my legs too, please.” He whispers, wondering what he’s getting himself into.

The cuffs are soft and warm against his exposed skin. Dr. Gold makes them tight, and Eames is a little embarrassed at how that relaxes him. He pulls at them, testing his ability to move. He’s got about an inch either way.

“Do you do this for all your patients?” Eames asks.

“Oh, no, Mr. Eames. You’re a special case. As soon as I walked in, I knew you needed my help.” He rips the gown down the front in one quick move.

“Lovely,” he breathes, his eyes roaming over Eames’ naked body.

The instinct to curl into himself, to cover up is halted by the restraints and Eames is forced to endure it, skin tingling under the man’s stare.

Once he’s had his fill, the doctor tears the gown off completely, and washes his hands. New gloves go on, and he takes ahold of Eames’ soft penis.

“No arousal at all? Hmm. I think we can improve upon that, Mr. Eames.”

Eames jumps at the cold swipe of lube over the head of his cock. Dr. Gold rubs it around, retracting his foreskin a little to make sure it gets everywhere. His finger trail down, over Eames’ balls, and presses firmly against his perineum, making Eames gasp.

“Sensitive, are we? Any pain there?” His tone is professional, but the predatory look in the doctor’s eye is giving him away.

“A little.” Eames wiggles, trying to move away from the increasing pressure.

“Definitely some prostate inflammation, then.” He muses.

“Couldn’t we just, do the other thing?” Eames asks, hopefully.

“What other thing would that be, Mr. Eames? There are a lot of ‘other things’ we could do. It’s important to be specific.” His finger is still rubbing.

“The prostate massage. I wouldn’t need to be restrained for that, I could just bend over.”

“This procedure will be much more effective, I assure you. It’s important to do it right the first time, Mr. Eames, or else we may need to repeat the procedure.” The finger slides back further, ghosting over Eames’ hole. He jolts at the contact.

Dr. Gold bites his lip. “Another time, perhaps.”

He picks up a rod, examining it closely before spreading lube over the first couple of inches. It looks impossibly large and Eames begins second guessing his decision to be restrained.

“It’s very, very important that we communicate during this procedure, Mr. Eames. You need to tell me how it feels, especially if there is pain. Understood?”

Eames nods, confused at the mixed signals his body is sending him.

The doctor sighs. “Mr. Eames, do I need to demonstrate what not communicating clearly could mean for you?” He grips Eames’ penis, making him groan in pain.

“No, no, sorry! I understand.” Eames chokes out.

“Very good, now, I’m going to insert the sound. Relax as much as you can.”

_Not bloody likely,_ Eames thinks, and then it’s pressing in. He draws a sharp breath at the icy intrusion as it forces its way into him.

“The handy thing about sounds are that they don’t really need any encouragement. The male penis accommodates them quite easily. Breathe, Mr. Eames.”

“It stings,” he says, all his breath rushing out.

“That’s normal. We’re about halfway there.”

Eames takes a shaky breath, trying to will his body to relax. The feeling of fullness is foreign in this part of his anatomy, and it’s nothing like having a cock up his ass.

“How are we doing?” The doctor asks, eyes on his work.

“It feels, big, so big. And cold.”

“I bet you say that to all the boys,” Dr. Gold grins. “It will start to warm up as it takes on your body heat. You’re doing beautifully. It’s almost in.”

The burning stops, leaving just the feeling of pressure. “Is it done?”

“It’s in. Let’s let it sit for a minute, try to relax.” He peers down at Eames, wonderingly.

A warm hand brushes across his belly, a few inches above his cock. Eames relaxes in increments as the hand starts to move, massaging gently. Just as the sound is starting to feel less alien, Dr. Gold shifts it.

“God, you’re doing so well,” He soothes as Eames struggles to breathe. “Keep breathing. Talk to me.”

“It’s so much, I don’t know how to describe it. Full.”

The sound is being thrust in and out, what feels like inches, but is probably only millimeters. The burning returns and then it’s out. Eames’ penis feels empty, which is never something he expected to feel.

“Are we done?” He asks, tilting his head up so see.

“Not quite. I think we can go bigger.” Dr. Gold spreads lube over another rod. One who’s flat end is much larger than the first.

Eames slams his head against the table, groaning. There’s a hand in his hair, tugging gently.

“Hey, now, calm down. The first one didn’t hurt like you thought it would, right? It was perfectly fine. This one will be better. We need to clear the blockage, and for that we need a bigger sound. You’re doing beautifully, Mr. Eames, don’t quit on me now.”

Eames wants to scream, to cry and protest, but the soft, encouraging look in the doctor’s eyes is so genuine, he finds himself nodding. Dr. Gold tilts his head to the side, raising his eyebrows, waiting.

“Please,” Eames rasps, a tear sliding over his temple. “Keep going.”

The pride on the doctor’s face sends chills through him. The man leans down to press a kiss to the corner of Eames’ eye, licking at the tear’s trail. “So wonderful.”

Eames chokes back a sob when the second sound spears his slit, sliding in smoothly thanks to the generous amount of lube. He doesn’t think the doctor wants him to be in pain, not for long, at least. The feeling of being invaded is more intense this time and it’s harder to relax.

The hand is back, sans glove, massaging his belly. Dr. Gold is murmuring praise, eyes wide and bright as he guides the sound into Eames as far as it will go. By the time he stops, he’s panting, colour high in his cheeks. _It’s a good look on him,_ Eames thinks, and though he can’t see the man’s lower half, he’s willing to bet the doctor is aroused.

“You’re much more relaxed this time. I told you it wouldn’t be too bad, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Eames chokes out.

“How does it feel?” The hand is still moving on his stomach, the warm touch soothing him.

“Fuller, more pressure.”

“But not painful?”

“Not exactly.” Eames blinks rapidly.

Dr. Gold appears above him. “Explain what you mean, Mr. Eames, I need to know.”

Eames licks his lips, not missing how the doctor follows the movement. “It’s stressful. Like it’s being stretched.”

“Yes, perfect. That’s what it should feel like.” The doctor is still breathing hard, dimples standing out as he pets at Eames.

“Now what?” Eames asks, half afraid of the answer.

“Now we see to your prostate. I’m going to move the sound to stimulate it.”

“God,” Eames strains his head back, breath hitching.

“It won’t hurt, I promise. Just relax and let me help you.”

Eames forces his body to loosen, trying not to anticipate the movement. Dr. Gold squeezes his penis gently, sending sparks through Eames as it shifts the sound.

“Fuck!” Eames pulls against his restraints.

“Good?” Dr. Gold asks innocently.

“I don’t know. Intense.” Eames gasps.

The sound shifts, rocking back and forth as it goes deeper. The fingers on his belly get firmer, forcing him to melt into the table. The moment the sound finds his prostate, Eames cries out, arching off the table as much as he’s able.

“There it is,” Dr. Gold breathes.

His prostate feels like a raw nerve under the prodding of the sound. He knows the movements are small, gentle, but they feel like they’re going to rip him apart if they continue. He’s sobbing, the sound so loud he doesn’t understand why others haven’t come running.

“Yes, let it out. It’s been so long, hasn’t it? It’s such a relief, isn’t it?” Dr. Gold is watching him like he’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen as Eames writhes under his hands.

Incredibly, Eames feels the curling ache of orgasm building. His body feels heavy and impossibly tight.

“Ah, Ah,” he panics, worried about coming with the sound in. “I think, I’m going.”

“Yes, come on, it’s okay. It’s going to feel so good to come. Don’t be scared. Come for me, Mr. Eames, do it.” Dr. Gold’s breath is hot on Eames’ balls.

Eames seizes, his orgasm barrelling through him so thunderously his cock feels like it might explode. There’s pain, and coming around the sound makes him shudder violently, but the intense pleasure flowing in it’s wake causes him to blackout.

When Eames’ eyes flutter open, Dr. Gold is pulling the last inch of the sound out. Eames groans at the swollen and bruised feel of his soft cock. The doctor runs a warm cloth over him, gently wiping away all traces of lube and come.

“The will be some engorgement, and perhaps some pain and blood when you urinate, but it should pass within twenty-four hours,” He replaces the sound on the instrument tray, his movements stiff and subdued. “If they don’t, or if you have any discomfort or abnormal discharge, come back in right away. I mean it, now. An infection would be a serious complication.”

Eames nods, his body exhausted and pliant.

“Mr. Eames, tell me you’ve heard me.”

“I heard you. Come see you if there’s anything weird.”

The doctor’s hands still for a moment before he releases the cuffs. “Not me. Dr. Fibert will be back Friday. You can see him with any concerns.”

“But, you said,” Eames frowns, struggling to sit up.

Dr. Gold puts an arm behind his back to support him. “You were reluctant to allow the procedure when you could benefit greatly from it. I took the necessary steps to ensure you received treatment.”

“You mean you lied to me so you could have your fun.” Eames grabs the doctor’s wrist before he can back away.

“As I recall,” Dr. Gold swallows, eyes drifting away. “You were the one who experienced relief.”

Eames’ eyes flit down to the doctor’s crotch, where his erection is tenting his pants. Eames’ mouth waters and he shakes his head, releasing the man’s arm. He pulls the paper-sheathed pillow over his nakedness, unsure of what comes next.

“I’ll leave you to get dressed.” Dr. Gold says, reaching for the door handle.

“Doctor,” Eames waits until the man turns to face him. “Thank you. For helping me with my problem.”

Brightness returns to the doctor’s eyes and he ducks his head, cheeks flushed. Again, Eames is struck by how lovely the man is.

“You are most welcome, Mr. Eames.”

“What do I do, if I need the procedure again?”

Dr. Gold’s smile is shy, despite his previous boldness. “I’ll leave my card with the receptionist. All you need do, Mr. Eames, is ask.”

 


End file.
